Dani Weber in drag as Dani Boi, who is featured in a short documentary for the ABC’s Love Bites series, tied to the 40th Mardi Gras in Australia.
Photograph: Gunay Demirci

I never thought I’d grow up to be a drag king. When I thought of drag, I thought of gay men in dresses, mocking women and making transphobic jokes. But when I moved to San Francisco and explored my queerness and the rich history and diversity within drag, I soon found myself in the spotlight.

As a baby bisexual in Melbourne, my only interaction with queer communities was through being a “fag hag”. I was only taken to bars and clubs by gay men to be an accessory – someone to dance with while they looked around for men to cruise. I was always read as a straight woman, but I knew that wasn’t really me, and I didn’t know how to find my people. When I met my partner Ben, who is also bisexual, we decided to move overseas so that we could be a bit more adventurous. I also had a feeling that I needed to explore who I was, away from family and friends.

People travel to San Francisco from all over the world to be themselves. We ended up living there for one and a half years. I became a historical walking tour guide of the Castro District, America’s first openly gay neighbourhood. I learned all about San Francisco’s history of art, activism, free love, anti-racism (particularly in Oakland, across the bay) and, of course, LGBTQIA+ rights.

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Dani Boi – video

I also learned that drag performers had a legacy of busting the gender binary (instead of upholding it with misogynistic stereotypes, as we often see in mainstream drag cultures), that many drag performers were trans and nonbinary, and that drag could be used as a vehicle for political expression and community activism. The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, for example, were a hugely positive force during the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, creating the first ever safer sex literature and handing it out along with condoms at bars and clubs, while dressed as drag nuns. They injected humour, education and prevention into what was a very scary and dark time. I was intrigued.

‘I dream of a world in which people understand that there’s so many ways to express gender.’ Photograph: Gunay Demirci

Since moving to San Francisco I also began to embrace being nonbinary – that is, identifying as neither man nor woman exclusively. I feel very genderfluid, and enjoy expressing different parts of myself depending on the context. It’s pretty simple really; I think many of us hold different blends of feminine and masculine within us.

I attended a weekly event at historic drag bar Aunt Charlie’s, and was lucky enough to meet queer performers such as “bearded queen”, who encouraged me to see drag as anything I wanted it to be. I soon began performing lipsyncs and trying out different looks, mixing elements of gender presentation together.

These days, when I become Dani Boi, there are a few changes I make to my appearance which help draw out my typically “masculine” side. I use a non-sticky tape to bind my chest, use a packing to create a bulge in my pants, and wear clothes that make my shoulders feel more square and broad, such as vests. When I get my hair cut, I keep the clippings and chop them down very fine, and use a costume adhesive called spirit gum to attach it to my face.

I find that when I’m wearing my facial hair I tend to smile less and be more stoic, when I’m day to day quite a bubbly and energetic person. While I don’t believe that we need to change our appearance in order to express different sides of ourselves, gender play can feel very empowering and help shift how other people interact with us as well.

On stage, my masculinity can take the form of being suave, sleazy, sexually aggressive, but also fragile, submissive and docile – especially when I do duets with my drag queen friend Joanna Laheaux, who is very dominant. I also am fine if I take my top off and it reveals my binding or nipple pasties, and Joanna doesn’t shave her chest hair – we don’t feel the need to be understood in a 100% binary way.

Since returning to Melbourne in late 2016, I have absolutely fallen in love with performing as a drag king. I have re-entered queer scenes not as a gay man’s accessory, but instead being seen and understood as the queer, nonbinary, drag king Dani Boi that I am. My performances often explore topics of toxic masculinity, consent, respecting boundaries and sex-positivity. I think that drag performers have an incredible opportunity to challenge stereotypes and shine a spotlight on gender roles.

Melbourne has so many vibrant queer communities, with spaces where people of all genders mix together and performers are experimental and push boundaries, such as Honcho Disko and TAINT cabaret. In October 2017 I was tasked with bringing a troupe of genderqueer performers to Warrnambool for a nonbinary drag showcase – it included performances, workshops, and a demonstration on how to apply facial hair. I helped someone put a moustache on for the very first time, and I’ll never forget how happy they were.

Having the space and support to be my true self has changed my life forever, and I’m so proud of who I’ve been able to become. I hope I can keep carving out spaces for more people to be themselves, whether that’s through events, online spaces, or visibility as a drag king, a queer person of colour, and a genderfluid human. I was so, so thrilled when Logan Mucha approached me about creating the Dani Boi documentary for the ABC, and I love that in the film we could feature and celebrate so many other nonbinary folks in Melbourne.

I dream of a world in which people understand that there’s so many ways to express gender, and that drag is an expansive art to explore, activate and celebrate our diversity as humans.